


polished

by scandalous



Series: Season of Kink 2019 [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Domestic, Dominant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, M/M, Nail Polish, Oral Fixation, Submissive Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: There's something different in the air.





	polished

**Author's Note:**

> for 15kisses - dignity and seasonofkink - oral fixation.
> 
> enjoy!

Crowley is hanging around the bookshop, the scent of something having  _ changed  _ thick in the air.

He spends several minutes trying to decipher what could’ve changed. Humans are creatures of habit and routine— immortal, ageless occult beings, even more so. He hasn’t done anything out of the unusual today and neither has Aziraphale, well, maybe he has, he just doesn’t know yet. He hasn’t figured out what he’s done different yet.

At least, until he finds Aziraphale sitting on one of his couches, reading. Crowley chokes on air, a strangled noise leaving his mouth as he trips on his own feet and falls to the floor.

Of course, the thing that’s different isn’t the fact Aziraphale is reading. In fact, that’s the least unusual thing Crowley has ever seen in his thousand years long life.

Aziraphale puts the book down and immediately goes over to him. “Crowley!” he exclaims. “Dear, what happened? Why did you fall?”

He stares at him wordlessly, his tongue slipping out of his mouth, licking at his lips hungrily. He struggles with words, every language he’s learned throughout his years on Earth magically disappearing. “Your—” he falls on, choking on every syllable as he continues, “your nails.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale exclaims, eyes widening a little as he looks down at his fingernails. They’re a bright red, shiny and new and brilliant. “You like them?” he asks with a small smile.

“Of—” he huffs. “Of  _ course  _ I like them, angel,” he says, offended at the thought of not liking them. He leans in to kiss him quick, getting up. “They’re beautiful.” He’s trying to play the cool role, the aloof role, and considering he just fell on his ass because of Aziraphale’s nails, it’s not going along swimmingly.

“Thank you, my dear,” he says, pecking his cheek. “Could I go back to reading now?”

“Of course, angel,” he replies, tilting his head. “‘s not like I’m the one ordering you around, anyway.”

Aziraphale seems vaguely amused by the comment, but he doesn’t say anything as he plops down on the couch. He keeps one hand holding the book, the other one on the armrest. He frowns for a second before the  _ OPEN  _ sign is slammed back into saying  _ CLOSED. _

Ah.

Crowley sucks in a breath as he swallows up the dignity he maintains he has, except for when Aziraphale is around. He swears the bastard’s turned most of the lights off, too, so it feels more personal. More lusty. 

He walks up to his couch and he ever so slowly goes down to his knees, his head by the armrest. Without a word, Aziraphale raises his hand, dipping two fingers into his willing mouth. Crowley’s eyes flutter shut as he starts sucking on them, his brain shutting off as only pleasure and a wish to please overwhelm him.

“Good boy,” Aziraphale says. He makes a little happy noise, a pathetic thing lacking in much dignity, and he soaks up on it, the praise coming from Aziraphale’s lips.

He doesn’t know for how long he’s got his angel’s fingers down his throat, the taste of nail polish in the roof of his mouth, but eventually Aziraphale puts the book down. Eventually Aziraphale raises him to his lap, and he knows he would be happy if for the rest of his existence (or at least for a few days) he was kneeling at his feet, sucking on his fingers.


End file.
